Chicken Skin is the sensation which sweeps over your body whenever you come close to the borderland between reality and mystery. It is the eerie feeling in your gut as your hair rises on the back of your neck, your flesh tingles, your heart races, and your eyes inexplicably water.

Dr. Glenn Grant is a haole who studied history at the University of Hawai'i in the 1970s. Enthralled by the richness of the history and folklore of the Islands, he decided to stay.

People of all ages, races, gender, educational and occupational backgrounds, and ethnicities encounter the spirits of the dead. Ghost stories still circulate through word-of-mouth as Islanders continue to talk story into the wee hours of the morning, passing on family supernatural tales, sharing personal, uncanny experiences, and keeping alive the centuries old tradition of legend making.

ALL homes and places of business are blessed before taking occupancy. Ti leaves are carefully planted near homes, sacred places, and locales thought to be haunted. Pikai ceremonies (sprinkling of Hawaiian sea salt) are still performed for people and places bothered by restless ghosts.

Dr. Grant thrived in this environment. He recorded THOUSANDS of first-hand accounts (not to mention a few encounters he himself had). Dr. Grant chose 49 of these tales to include in this book. Most are recorded as told to him, with only a few comments for those not versed in Pidgin.

The haole or Caucassion woman with whom I interviewed in 1973 was then about 45 years old. She explained that she was a telephone operator with Hawaiian Tel at the main offices in downtown Honolulu. Every night after work she would drive from Honolulu to Hauʻula at the far north end of Oʻahu, a long but relaxing drive which she had actually begun to enjoy. That is, up until a few nights before when something inexplicable had taken place on the remote stretch of highway between the Turtle Bay Hilton and the Kahuku Sugar Mill.

The time was just about 2:00 a.m., she explained, as she drove the lonely highway past the exclusive north shore hotel. There were no cars at all on the road, none in front, behind, or approaching. Her headlights qwew on high beam, showing nothing on the road ahead. The radio was getting only static, so she turned it off. Instead she rolled down her window to enjoy the cool air on a beautiful Hawaiian night. Her cruising speed was about 45 miles per hour. She was thinking that a cup of tea would be nice when she got home, then her car struck a pedestrian who had suddenly crossed the highway about a mile from the sugarmill.

Petrified that she had just killed someone, she slammed on her brakes, the smell of burning rubber and squealing tires piercing the still, quiet night. Her car was going out of control as she tried to maneuver away from the embankment where she feared she would plunge into the sugar cane field. The victim had fallen down hard on the hood of her car, the poor woman's body rolling back to the windshield and then bouncing back to the hood. When would the car finally stop, a detached voice inside her head kept pleading. The victim again rolled back to the windshield, turning her face toward the terrified driver.

There on the hood of the moving vehicle was a young Hawaiian girl wearing a long, green flowing dress. From the glow of the dashboard illuminating the front of the windshield, she could see that the girl wasn't much older than 16 years of age. The look on her face was one of horror and disbelief. How horrible to kill someone, the telephone operator kept thinking as she looked right into the anguished face of the young victim. Then, just as the car came to a final stop, the girl on the hood lifted her head on her elbow, peered right in at the driver, and changed her expression. A slight [kolohe or rascal smile replaced the horror as she gave the driver a malicious wink with one eye.

Standing up to her feet on the hood of the stopped car, this young girl then jumped into the night sky. The telephone operator watched as her body trailed off into nothingness of a still night.

Interests:Ghost hunting of course! Motorcycles is a big interest of mine. I also am a guitar player (hence my username) but I haven't practiced much over the last year or two. I also enjoy spending time with my wife and family when possible.

Posted 08 September 2005 - 01:34 PM

Chicken Skin is the sensation which sweeps over your body whenever you come close to the borderland between reality and mystery. It is the eerie feeling in your gut as your hair rises on the back of your neck, your flesh tingles, your heart races, and your eyes inexplicably water.

I thought that was Gooseflesh!?!?!?

Ah. Well... I attended Juilliard... I'm a graduate of the Harvard business school. I travel quite extensively. I lived through the Black Plague and had a pretty good time during that. I've seen the EXORCIST ABOUT A HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN TIMES, AND IT KEEPS GETTING FUNNIER EVERY SINGLE TIME I SEE IT... NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT YOU'RE TALKING TO A DEAD GUY... NOW WHAT DO YOU THINK? You think I'm qualified? --BeetlejuiceI'm the ghost with the most, babe.--BeetlejuiceWe've come for your daughter Chuck--Beetlejuice